


Firewhiskey And All Its Advantages

by MissDrarryDawn



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-03
Updated: 2019-10-03
Packaged: 2020-11-22 22:40:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,096
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20881838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MissDrarryDawn/pseuds/MissDrarryDawn
Summary: Draco stumbles to Harry's home one midnight, completely, positively, dangerously inebriated. This ought to go well, doesn't it?//Completed//Word count: 4k





	Firewhiskey And All Its Advantages

**Author's Note:**

> yEs i kNow that DWST has the same cOncept BUT i got a stroke of inspiration and anyways, do you want the fluff or not? thought sO tOo
> 
> now shush and enjoy :3

Harry had just settled into his armchair after dinner to wind down a bit before bed, staring idly at his Pensieve, wondering if there'd be a need to use it. His Mind Healer had advised him to stove the more difficult times in it, and he took her advice. It did help him sleep a bit easier. A series of rapid knocks on his door startled him out of his reverie and his eyes drifted to his front door narrowing. Who the hell would have any business knocking on his door at this time of night? Harry rises from his chair and pads over to the door, opening it just a crack, ready to Stun the annoying visitor into oblivion, before stopping short.

On the other side of his door stood Draco Malfoy.

A very, _very_ plastered Draco Malfoy.

He swayed on his feet, clutching onto the doorframe for support, looking as if he would keel over any moment now. Harry threw the door open wider and pulled him in, it was bloody freezing outside. 

"Malfoy, what the hell are you--" Harry didn't really know how to finish his sentence when the taller man stumbled into him, nearly toppling them both over. "Whoa, you're pissed." Harry muttered under his breath as Malfoy righted himself, or, at least, attempted to.

"'M fineee.." He slurred. He was flushed from drink and his hair was in a state of dishevel Harry knew he'd never allow for otherwise. He looked absolutely stunning, tall and lean in his black robes, his wonderful pale skin disappearing under them. And his hair..Harry could write _poetry_ about his hair.. He had changed drastically since the war, but if there was one thing that stayed the same, it was his infallible hairstyle, though now he kept it much longer. Harry couldn't exactly say it didn't suit him either. He led him by the elbow to sit down at the armchair Harry had previously been occupying, closest to the simmering fire in his fireplace.

"How much did you have to drink exactly?" Harry asked, kneeling in front of him. His eyelids were droopy.

"One.." He trailed off and Harry waited.

"One pint?" Harry asked, hopeful. Malfoy shook his head, grinning wryly though it was dopey.

"Bottle."

The raven cursed under his breath:

"Fuck Malfoy, how have you not landed yourself in Mungo's yet? Right. I'm going to make you soup and get you sobered up." Harry patted his knee in a friendly manner and stalked off into his kitchen.

Of all the ways he thought his evening was going to go, he did _not_ expect to have to deal with a drunk Draco Malfoy. He didn't exactly mind, the blonde _had_ featured in just over the healthy limit of Harry's dreams. And by that, Harry meant every single one, but he could just picture how outraged Malfoy will be in the morning, and he didn't fancy getting his head chewed off his arse. Nevertheless, Harry put some soup on for him, when he heard a retching sound. 

_Oh for fuck's sake._

Harry strode into the bathroom, finding Malfoy sicking up into the toilet, looking miserable and green in the face. Harry knelt down next to him and gathered his hair back in one hand, rubbing his hunched back with his other.

"Get it out Malfoy. Honestly, who drinks an entire fucking bottle? You're supposed to be smart. I'm the dumb one in this--" _Relationship. _"Acquaintanceship." Harry said instead. He saw Malfoy flip him the two fingered salute and snickered under his breath. Ah, not even copious amounts of alcohol would deter him from being a git. An _amazing_ git, but a git all the same. That was nice to know at least.

After Malfoy was done, which took a while, Harry helped him up and into the kitchen. He didn't seem so sick anymore, and when Harry placed the hot bowl of soup in front of him, he seemed to brighten up a little. Harry watched, appalled, as he picked the bowl up and tipped the soup straight into his mouth, not bothering with a spoon.

_Malfoy._

The same Malfoy who always nags Harry's ear off for putting his elbows on the table while he eats, was drinking soup straight from the bowl.

Harry snickered again. He'd _definitely_ need the Pensieve. If for nothing else than to blackmail Malfoy with it for a few months to come. They'd had a few run ins at the Ministry, becoming fairly cordial and even friendly, and since their departments shared a cafeteria, Harry and Malfoy usually had lunch together. At first, it started with Harry pestering Malfoy until the blonde sod had given in and let Harry stay there, and from then on, it became a bit of a ritual. To the point where Malfoy got upset Harry didn't have lunch with him one day, and Harry would have, but Shacklebolt needed him for something so he couldn't make it to lunch in time. When he did get there, he found Malfoy glaring at the chair Harry usually sat in, a small pout to his lips. That was the moment really. The moment Harry knew he might like Malfoy a _tad bit_ more than a mere friend. Since then it sort of snowballed, as it _always_ did with Harry, and now he was here, watching Malfoy drink soup from the bowl like a neanderthal. 

What a sight.

"Just to be sure, do you even know who I am?" Harry asked jokingly, when the blonde put the bowl down. He was still jittery, but his eyes had cleared somewhat as he looked up at Harry.

"You're.." He seemed to think long and hard about this. "..the annoying prick who wouldn't shake my hand! Yes! I remember you!" He pointed a swaying, accusatory finger at Harry, who laughed despite his best efforts not to. Malfoy had said he was over that, dismissing it with a haughty wave of his hand. _We were 11 Potter, we didn't know better. _Clearly not. Oh, this was _gold_.

"That's me." Harry nodded his assent, scrunching up his nose affectionately. Malfoy stood up from his chair and looked about ready to fall over, but kept his balance _somehow_ and staggered over to Harry, a determined look pinched in his face. When he was in front of Harry, he stuck out his hand, and Harry's chest fluttered with a fond warmth. Only Malfoy could do that to Harry, by doing something silly with no context.

"Alright." The raven shrugged and gripped Malfoy's hand, giving it a firm handshake before dropping away. Malfoy was way too cold, and Harry was determined to amend that situation. He placed a hand on the small of Malfoy's back and led him to the bedroom, deciding he'd let Malfoy sleep it off at his place. The bastard would splinch himself if he attempted to Apparate, and Harry would have to be _insane_ to let a drunk Draco Malfoy on the streets at night. 

"I hate big, dark houses." Malfoy suddenly murmured under his breath while they ascended the stairs of Grimmauld. Harry nodded, humming in affirmation.

"Me too." He was looking for a smaller flat but until he found a place he liked, he decided to live in Grimmauld place.

"They scare me. Something's always crouched in the shadows." 

Harry discreetly brightened the lights around his home.

"I know." Harry agreed solemnly again.

"The poor first years used to, to hide from me when I had to.." Malfoy trailed off, hiccup breaking into a sob and Harry really didn't know what to do.

As if a drunk Malfoy wasn't bad enough.

He was stuck dealing with a drunk, _emotional_ Malfoy.

Well, Malfoy won't remember anything in the morning anyways, so Harry wrapped an arm around his waist completely, pulling him closer. He waited for a beat, then the blonde leaned into him. Harry felt him take a few deep breaths and unconsciously circled a soothing pattern into his hip through his fitted trousers.

They made it up the steps and into the hallway leading to his bedroom, both silent.

"You smell nice." Malfoy commented, face buried into Harry's hair and Harry flushed, subtly choking on air.

"Thanks. Err, you too." He mumbled awkwardly while he swung the door to the bedroom open. It wasn't a lie though, Malfoy _did_ smell nice. Citrus-y, refreshing. 

Harry deposited him on the bed and took of his robe and shoes leaving them by the door.

"If you need anything, yell really loudly or call Kreacher." Harry said after a moment of awkward silence where Malfoy regarded his room. He turned to leave when-

"Stay." The blonde man suddenly said and Harry sucked in a breath through his teeth. Harry slowly turned around to appraise Malfoy with a critical eye. He eventually sighed and moved to the bed, sitting next to Malfoy, who didn't seem the least bit alarmed.

Still drunk, Harry noted, though not as plastered as when he first came knocking on Harry's door. 

Contemplating the many reasons why Malfoy was here right now, he yelped in surprise when Malfoy pushed him back onto the bed, pinning his wrists next to his head and straddling him.

"Malfoy what are you--" Harry started, but was cut off when Malfoy rolled his hips downwards. _Shit._

"Malfoy wait, _wait_." Harry tried to free his wrists but Malfoy only held them tighter, grinding the bones.

"Malfoy, get _off_." Harry begged, when Malfoy continued his ministrations. He was horrified to find his cock thickening in his pants. 

"Kiss me." The blonde demanded, biting his plump pink lip, tongue darting out to wet it. Harry nearly did too, _fuck how long he's wanted to_, but he reigned himself in. _No. Not like this._

With a burst of strength, Harry rolled them over, so that he was on top of Malfoy. He held him gingerly, just hard enough to be considered a hold, unlike the bruising grip Malfoy had had on him. Harry found he didn't much mind.

"_Malfoy_, believe me I'd _love_ to, but you are _drunk_, and I am _not_ taking advantage of you. Go to sleep you prat." Harry enunciated, slow and steady, watching Malfoy's face closely. His eyelids fluttered over those fucking gray eyes, cheekbones flushed with the remnants of alcohol still in him. He pouted, then huffed, then scoffed, then said 'fine' and Harry moved away while Malfoy crawled under the covers, turning on his side and tucking himself into the bed. It looked absolutely adorable. Malfoy was scowling into the pillow, and Harry sighed, rolling his eyes before laying down behind him and reaching out a hand to brush through his hair. He'd told him once he enjoyed such things, then scowled and insulted Harry the rest of the day to compensate for it, which Harry also found adorable. The strands were impossibly soft and silky between his fingers, while Harry slowly carded them through the blonde locks. A small mewl of approval left Malfoy, and Harry bit his lip on a grin. After a bit, Harry had soothed him into falling asleep and that was when he slowly extricated himself from the bed, standing up. 

He smiled softly once more, leaving a glass of water, some hangover and headache potions and a note on his way out. Hell, the hangover Malfoy will have tomorrow. _Gods_. 

With a soft click Harry slid out of the room, closing the door behind him. He made his way downstairs to his living room, to get some sleep on the couch.

_What a night._

~

When Draco woke up, he noticed two things:

1\. His head hurt like a bitch.

2\. He wasn't in his bed.

Both of these realizations were alarming enough to startle him awake, but not alarming enough to prompt him to move. The bed he was in was comfortable and warm and smelled _familiar. Apple shampoo_. There was only one person in the Wizarding World who used apple shampoo, Draco realized with another throb of pain and a healthy dose of panic mixed in too, to his skull.

Why the _fuck _was he in Potter's bed?

Don't get him wrong, he isn't opposed to waking up in Potter's bed, but he'd much prefer to _remember_ what lead up to him ending up there. With a quick glance, he realized he was fully clothed, much to his relief. Other than his shoes and jacket, which were by the door, he'd gleamed from his position. Slowly, he sat up, much to his pounding head's chagrin. Shit, he did not have _any_ recollection of what the _fuck_ happened last night. He glanced around, finding two vials of potion and a glass of water on the nightstand, as well as a small torn off piece of parchment. He grabbed that first, rubbing his bleary eyes.

_You were drunk off your arse last night Malfoy. You came knocking on my door at midnight like a raving lunatic, and I hope you don't mind that I put you up here, instead of Apparating you back to yours. You were in no condition to take care of yourself, I don't even know how you made it to mine without dying, but I'm glad nonetheless._

_The potions are for you. Hangover and Headache, Merlin knows you'll need them. Come downstairs when you see this._

_Potter_

Draco scrunched up the note, cheeks blazing. He had went to Potter's...drunk..last night..._What the fuck did Pansy slip into his firewhiskey? _Casting a grateful look at the potions, he downed them both, finally, washing out the horrid taste with the water. He sat back against the headboard for a few minutes longer, waiting for the potions to kick in, stretching like a cat. Right. He could only hope he hadn't done anything _too_ mortifying, or revealed something he should have never revealed. For example how much he wished Potter would get drunk enough one night to fuck him through a mattress, any mattress really, Draco was desperate enough. _Ahem. Focus Draco._

He slung his legs over the side of the bed, slowly standing up, pleased to find he even could. The potions Potter left him worked wonders and he exited what he'd guessed was Potter's bedroom. He made his way through the hall, getting lost in this damned house twice before finding the right stairs, or what he hoped were the right stairs. After descending them he found he had been correct, and walked into Potter's living room, almost swallowing his own tongue with an abrupt halt to his steady steps.

Potter was sprawled over the couch, _shirtless, _with nothing but a pair of very loose pants clinging low on his hips.

Draco groaned quietly, suppressing a shiver as his eyes raked over the planes of Potter's smooth chest, the honey dipped skin, the messy hair splayed over the arm of the couch, face soft and relaxed while he slept peacefully. One of his arms lay flat over the muscles of his stomach, the other hung off the bed, legs splayed open, an impressive bulge visible through the thin material of his pyjama bottoms. 

Draco swallowed convulsively a fair few times, gritting his teeth. _Damn this perfect bastard. _With a few resolute shakes of his head, he stalked up to the couch and bellowed impatiently:

"Potter!" Quite loudly, finding the punishment deserving after Potter gave Draco's poor cock a heart attack looking like he did.

The man snapped to attention immediately, hurtling forward before stumbling upwards and crashing into Draco, who barely had time to push one of his feet back for leverage, lest they end up on the floor, Potter on top of him. _Potter on top of him._ His cock twitches, and Draco shakes his head, grunting before shoving Potter away.

"For fuck's sake." He manages once he's righted his glasses on his nose, disheveling his goddamn hair even more. "Morning Malfoy. Why did you wake me up like that? It was rude." He sounded at odds, which was good, because he was the reason Draco had been at odds with himself for quite a while, and deserves to get a taste of his own medicine.

"You were snoring like a berk. I could hear you from upstairs." Draco sniffed, mouth flooding with saliva when Potter stretched upwards, all of his muscles flexing and tensing. _Fuck._ "What the fuck happened last night?" 

Potter laughed, his harrowing guffaw that did _not_ make Draco's stomach burn, and shook his head:

"Oh Malfoy.." He sounded _almost-sorry_ about whatever it was that happened, and Draco was starting to panic. "Please don't ever drink again. Or at least, not as much as you did last night, you dumb prat, you worried me." He continued in the same breath, snipping, before turning to make his way into his kitchen.

He had fucking dimples at the bottom of his back.

_Of course he fucking did._

"Tell me what happened Potter." Draco followed him, forcing his eyes away from straying to his arse, though the taut muscles of his back weren't helping the case either.

"I will, in a moment, don't worry. Before that though, want some breakfast?" He asked, throwing Draco a friendly grin over his shoulder.

"Do I want som--" Draco sighed exasperated. "No, Potter, I just want to know what happened and leave." It was a bit cross, he knew, but he was growing impatient. _Out with it already Potter._

"Malfoy. I'll tell you, please just eat something first." Potter's voice had deepened to one more of a warning plea than the joking tease. Draco pressed his lips tightly and relented, dropping into the nearest chair, the table concealing his lap quite mercifully.

Potter beamed at him, as if Draco had just given him the world. The blonde knew he should display some notion of hostility, but the fucking grin on Potter's face made him bite his lips to smother a smile of his own. It wasn't _fair._

"Sleep well?" He asked, turning around again, starting to open cabinets and pull out food. Draco pointedly looked _anywhere_ else than his figure. _Anywhere._

"Yeah, t'was fine." Draco mumbled, shrugging one shoulder. Potter hummed in response.

"Before I tell you everything you did when you showed up at my door out of fucking nowhere at midnight, I want you to tell me why you came to me in the first place." Potter finally turned around placing some buttered toast in front of Draco, sitting down opposite him.

Draco flushed and picked up a piece of toast, biting into it, trying not to flush. Pansy had dragged him out for drinks because he was miserable about his.._issue_ regarding the Golden Boy, and apparently, he'd had one too fucking many. Or several too many since he ended up on Potter's doorstep.

"I was drunk Potter. I had as much of a chance at appearing at Weasley's as I had a chance at appearing at yours." He affected his usual bored dawdle, but Potter still didn't have a fucking shirt on and his collarbones dipped like _sin. _Potter chuckled:

"Imagine that." 

Draco shook his head immediately, taking another bite of his toast.

"Weasley would have chucked me into the nearest dumpster." He muttered.

"He's warmed up to you actually. Since I-" Potter faltered, swallowing a few times, cheeks flushing a _deep_ red. "Since I explained everything." He finished lamely, averting his eyes. 

An amused, albeit haughty, blonde eyebrow arched in his direction prompted him to flush even more, clearing his throat unnecessarily a few times.

That was certainly _interesting_. 

They lapsed into silence after that, and soon enough, Draco pushed his plate away, standing up. "Right. Thanks Potter. Now will you _please_ just tell me what the hell happened?" He egged and Potter nodded, waving the plates into the sink before standing too. "And for the love of Merlin, put a shirt on." Draco clipped, though it was more out of pity for himself if not anything else.

"'M comfortable Malfoy. Besides, this is my house." He shrugged, as he exited the kitchen.

Draco whimpered quietly before moving to follow. 

"I figured you wouldn't believe a word I say, besides it's always fun to embarrass you, so.." Potter gestured to a Pensieve with a sly grin and Draco pursed his lips.

"Right." He walked over to it without hesitation, glancing back to find Potter with amusement glittering in his eyes, strong forearms crossed across his chest. His fucking pyjama's exposed his V-line and Draco looked back into the Pensieve, determined not to suffer a heart attack. He leaned forward and dipped his head into the it, Potter's memories from last night blinking in front of him.

~

When Draco had seen everything, he rigidly righted himself, eyes gripping the edges of the Pensieve tightly, jaw set, eyes not daring to stray away from it. He felt flushed from toe to hair root, mortified and, not for the first time, completely willing to murder Pansy, who'd goaded him out in the first place. He didn't look at Potter, didn't really want to, instead focused on taking a deep, uneven breath.

"Malfoy? Draco?" The call was soft, a haze of a whisper, but Draco couldn't move. He closed his eyes and braced for the worst, when there was a gentle touch on his hands. His eyes snapped open to look down, and saw Potter slowly uncurling his fingers from the lip of the Pensieve, moving his hands away, tugging Draco until he stood facing Potter properly, but Draco just stared at a spot over Potter's head, resolutely training his eyes on the wall. Potter did not let go of his hands, instead laced their fingers, squeezing gently. Draco's heart stammered deep inside him. 

Potter's face suddenly filled his vision as he pushed onto his toes and brushed their lips together for the barest of seconds, the barest of touches. Draco's heart stopped altogether. 

"I know it's not quite what you asked last night, but I'd like to take you on a date first." Potter whispered softly against Draco's pliant lips, brushing them lightly as silk still. Those hushed, whispered words had Draco's eyes moving to study Potter's face. There was not a wrinkle of distress in it, his eyes flaring bright, honest to their damned core. Draco felt a swarm of something warm swathe over his skin, as he slowly realized that Potter wasn't taking the piss, he was being serious, he _wanted_ this, he _wanted_ Draco--

"Would you be alright with that?" He asked softly, thumbs smooth over the backs of Draco's palms, voice like a caress over Draco's skin, coated with earnest affection. Finally Draco was able to speak again, though just barely:

"Yes." He mumbled, pressing forward to kiss Potter properly, no force on this Earth able to stop him. Their lips locked in place, and Potter sighed against him, kissing back just as eagerly, mouth opening for the sweep of Draco's tongue, his own sliding to explore Draco's mouth. They both swayed on their feet slightly, Potter still not letting go of their clasped hands, as if he's afraid Draco will disappear if he lets go. The blonde extricates their fingers in favor of _finally_ burrowing them into Potter's soft, black hair. The bespectacled man moans lowly, his hands clutching the collar of Draco's shirt, breath coming in short gasps. Potter sucks on Draco's tongue, pulling him even closer, and a needy, desperate yowl clawks out of Draco's throat, Potter swallowing it in the heat of their kiss. 

Slowly, their fever eases away, mouths lazily working against each other, before parting slowly, their foreheads pressed together. Their eyes closed, slow, steady breaths breathed against each other. The world spins around him, rapidly righting itself on its axis, before crumbling away once again. Lax, loving smiles play on their lips when their eyes meet upon opening.

"I ought to get you drunk more often." Harry chuckled, he was glowing, much like Draco was.

"I feel pretty drunk right now. Does it count?" Draco replied, melting into his shoes. A hand came up to cup his cheek, and he leaned into it.

"_How_ drunk are we talking here?" Harry's smile widened, eyes crinkling at the corners like they always did when he smiled his most earnest. Draco couldn't have felt prouder that he'd coaxed such a smile from him.

"Completely shitfaced." He murmured, leaning in to kiss Harry again, and again, and again.

And Draco'll keep kissing him every damn day for the rest of his bloody life if he can help it.

~

_Fin._

**Author's Note:**

> i seem to recall an outrageous demand for some fluff-so I, being the good person I am, delivered *pushes pile of painful angsty fics under bed with foot* arent you happy to know someone as kind as me? ^^
> 
> Find more on my [Tumblr](https://missdrarrydawn.tumblr.com/)


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